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Sunday, 31 August 2014

I received an email from one of my Irish Examiner Terrace Talk pals to say that according to a footnote in Sud Ouest there were four scouts watching Bordeaux v Bastia, three French and one from the Arsenal. So perhaps my terrifying nightmare won't come to pass.....unless our scout was watching Sanogo's brother!

Who'd have thunk it, Spurs lose 0-3 at home to the Scousers and we're still below them in the table!

COYG

Peace & Love

Bernard

__________________________________________

Silent Stan Kroenke is hardly a regular at home games, let alone our majority shareholder travelling with the Gunners on the road. So naturally his unlikely appearance at the King Power Stadium yesterday set tongues a wagging, with Gooners everywhere clutching at the straw that our anonymous owner might come riding in on his white charger at the last minute, with his Louis Vuitton suitcases stuffed full of cash.

Doubtless it’s just wishful thinking on my part, but where Arsène was previously reeling off his long list of the promising square pegs, who he wants to shove in our gaping round hole up front, at least he left me clinging to some hope of reinforcements before the transfer window slams shut tonight, when instead he spoke about still being “very active” after we dropped another two points this weekend.

Travelling to Leicester inevitably results in us reminiscing nostalgically about Bergkamp’s hat-trick at Filbert Street and it’s a testament to the sublime quality of Dennis’ display all those years back that a 3-3 draw against lowly Leicester remains a stand-out memory from such a magical era.

Who knows, Sanogo might eventually make a name for himself, but sadly, at present, the French youngster is at the opposite end of the footballing spectrum and he brooks absolutely no comparison with our old Dutch master.

If Yaya had pulled a hat-trick out of the bag yesterday, le Prof would’ve probably put his feet up and taken the day off today. But after witnessing our centre-forward allowing the ball to pass between his legs, when standing almost on the penalty spot, this didn’t exactly scream of a player with the greatest goal-poaching instincts. Perhaps like the rest of us, Arsène suddenly starting sharing the nightmare of the goal scoring responsibilities, in crucial forthcoming clashes against City and Chelsea, all resting on Bambi’s flailing limbs.

The Sunday newspaper tales suggesting that the Gunners were attempting to gazump Chelsea were positively risible. I found myself struggling to picture Arsène rocking up to some clandestine rendezvous with Loic Remy, or Harry, with the lorry load of readies necessary to hijack this deal!

With the limited list of potential targets dwindling with each successive transfer news notification that pings on my mobile phone, I’m doing my best to come to terms with the possibility that Le Prof intends to mend and make do, so as to avoid the massive disappointment come midnight tonight. And if Wenger does plan to act, he had better pull his finger out, before the Gunners end up lumbered, signing “the only gay left in the village”.

Although as Arsène duly pointed out, for all Man City’s marvelous array of firepower, they still managed to lose at home to Stoke on Saturday and our failure to beat the Foxes wasn’t just down to Sa-no-goal. Mezut Ozil didn’t over exert himself in midweek and Ramsey wasn’t even playing, but where in our previous two matches we’ve managed to compensate for our failure to find top gear, with the resolve necessary to nick goals at the death, the lactic acid in our heavy legs left Leicester looking the team most likely to snatch the win yesterday.

I heard Alan Green whinging on the radio about the fact that Wenger had rested Wilshere after our midweek exertions and personally I would’ve preferred to see Jack afforded the opportunity to continue to play himself into some form. Sanchez would’ve been most entitled to an afternoon on the bench, after leaving absolutely everything out on the pitch against Beksitas. But with each successive performance my admiration for Alexis increases, as once again the Chilean worked his socks off.

However we struggled to match the full-blooded intensity and desire of the newly promoted side and roared on by their vociferous crowd, I can’t see too many teams rolling them over, if they can maintain such hunger over the course of the entire campaign.

Many moaned about this boiling over into actual bodily harm on occasion, but I love a good old-fashioned physical battle me. I’m not sure Mezut found his afternoon in the Leicester sunshine quite so enjoyable, but I have some sympathy with him and all our wealth of midfield talent. It must prove somewhat soul-destroying to have the patience to craft an opening in such a tight encounter, only to look up and realize there’s no one capable of producing an end product.

Surely after striving for so long to garner the collection of talent necessary to produce entertainment in Arsène’s idealistic image, our manager cannot deny us the piece or two which might complete his jigsaw puzzle. But then I seem to have been singing this same song for far too long.

Saturday, 30 August 2014

Sunday, 24 August 2014

At 2-0 down with only 7 minutes left
on the clock at Goodison on Saturday, the travelling Gooner faithful were
facing an utterly miserable schlep back home from Merseyside. Perhaps
a mere point in this instance, but mercifully, for the second
successive week we were extremely fortunate to salvage anything from
the ashes of another lamentably lethargic display.

Mainly thanks to the home side
knocking off early, Giroud’s glorious 90th minute equalizer resulted in an
explosion of redemptive euphoria, over another smash & grab
comeback. In typically fickle fashion, we were left unabashedly lauding
Monreal’s pinpoint assist and the Spaniard’s doggedly determined
retrieval of Ramsey’s infuriatingly wayward cross, where only moments
prior we’d been castigating our full-back as a defensive liability
and clutching at conciliatory straws, in the feint hope that such a
blatant failure in our first big test of this campaign, might
at least stir our manager, convincing Arsène of the urgent need for some last-minute transfer
action.

Despite the meritorious resilience
evident in pulling a potentially crucial iron from the fire of another
shoddy performance, this doesn’t disguise the fact that our woeful
form leaves all that pre-season optimism looking somewhat misguided at
present. Here’s hoping it’s not 13th time unlucky, but perhaps the
Gunners are a little too accustomed to cruising through our annual
Champions League qualifiers?

There was a frustrating absence
of intensity in Istanbul in midweek, aside from the overly zealous
endeavours of Alexis and the injection of energy from his
replacement, with the Ox producing the single only effort that came
anywhere close to fruition. This encounter was more akin to a
friendly, than potentially the most significant outing of the season.

Yet as a result, I was quite excited
when Saturday’s starting XI was revealed and I realized that Arsène had
somehow found a way of including Özil, Alexis and the Ox. That was
until it dawned on me that this was to the exclusion of any other strikers.
I adore Alexis’ wholehearted attitude and his willingness to graft
like a Trojan, but neither he nor Özil are the sort of natural
wide-men capable of occupying the likes of Coleman and Baines
sufficiently, out on the flanks, to prevent the Everton full-backs
from rampaging forward all game long (or to track them whenever
they do!).

I was delighted at the prospect of
seeing the Chilean get an opportunity to impose himself across the width
of the penalty area at Goodison. But sadly, operating on his own,
Sanchez was starved of the ball and struggled to make an impact. The
consensus seems to believe he’s most effective alongside another
striker in the no. 10 role, but sadly, in recent years, the inclusion of a
pair of strikers appears to have been completely eradicated from le
Prof’s purview.

Following the gut-wrenching
disappointment of conceding a second only moments before the break, my
unconfined joy at seeing le Gaffer react (instead of waiting until
the last fifteen) was soon dampened, upon discovering he was substituting
Giroud for Sanchez. Arsène needed to be bolder and with Wilshere
watching his third successive game drift by, we’d have been better off if
he’d taken Jack off and gone for it, giving the Toffees defence more
to think about by playing 4-4-2.

Wenger might feel vindicated by the
fact that we managed to rescue a result, but truth be told, with Giroud
needing three efforts before finally working Howard in goal, for the
vast majority of the second half if felt as if the home side was far more
likely to put the match to bed with a third than we were of turning this
game on it’s head.

With Koscielny already struggling
with an Achilles problem, I fear that our reliance on Chambers will
inevitably prove costly at some stage. It’s been suggested to me that
Callum’s reading of the game and his timely interventions are reminiscent
of Bobby Moore. There’s no doubt about his promise but it’s a massive
ask to expect him to produce the necessary level of consistency, over the course
of a marathon season and I’d be devastated to see his confidence wrecked
by costly errors.

Whether it was due to fitness, or
his unfamiliarity on the left, Mertesacker appeared uncomfortable on
Saturday. Despite the inclusion of his lanky presence, with Giroud
left on the bench, this only highlighted the Gunners physical
shortcomings.

Watching Chelsea’s powerful
performances thus far, it’s hard to imagine us lining up in the tunnel and
no longer being intimidated by our London rivals. Although Fabregas
wouldn’t have offered us more muscle, he has the sort of world-class aura,
which left me fearing that even if it was just to prevent him pulling
the strings in Mourinho’s midfield, passing on our option to bring him
back might prove the costliest mistake of the summer. I can’t help
but wonder if Wenger let his personal feelings take precedence over
his customary pragmatism in this instance.

Although
the Gunners are still struggling to get bodies in the box, at least our
late goals have staved off the mood of despondency that would’ve
undoubtedly enshrouded us by now, without them. But never fear, if we can
overcome Beksitas tomorrow and add a significant signing (or two)
before the week is out, we Gooners will be back on top of the world.

Monday, 18 August 2014

With succinctness hardly being my strong suit, when my nephew, Shane, posed the question about whether I think Jack Wilshere will ever truly fulfil all that potential, it was easier to respond with another post (never fear, such early season enthusiasm is bound to soon evaporate and it'll be a struggle posting once a week :-)

Doubtless the fact that Aaron Ramsey's career has come on, in such significant leaps and bounds since his eventual recovery from Shawcross' GBH, has only highlighted the contrasting way in which Jack Wilshere has seemingly been treading water over the same period. We can only speculate as to whether Jack's failure to influence proceedings and singlehandedly grab games by the scruff of the neck, in the way in which we all know him to be capable of, is related to his own long running injury saga, or some other underlying cause.

But I'm invariably reluctant to single Arsenal players out for criticism, as I've been guilty of giving them a hard time in the past, only to be left feeling somewhat shamefaced, after it's been pointed out to me that any such dip in form has been down to some unfortunate personal crisis. Besides which, by and large, professional footballers are fragile human beings, just like the rest of us and I always feel that it's somewhat crass of us to believe that we're capable of deep insights into their state of being, from watching them kick a ball around for 90 minutes, once or twice a week.

Nevertheless, it was interesting on Saturday to compare Jack's performance, with that of our latest new star signing, Alexis Sanchez. I'm not sure how obvious it will have been to those watching the game against Palace on the box, with the camera's tendency to follow the ball, but as was the case when Mezut Özil first arrived on the scene last season, with my pedantic nature I often find myself focusing on individuals. Their fleeting moments of possession are so few and far between that it's invariably far more revealing to study them through my binoculars, when they're not in the heat of the action and it was particularly noticeable on Saturday how often Alexis was left standing out on the flank, waving his arm in vain, hungry to be given the ball.

Aside from the obligatory YouTube videos (where I've seen Sanchez strike the ball with such pace and power that I'm wondering why Cazorla continues to waft corners harmlessly into the opposition keeper's welcoming arms!) and the stats that I've seen, I've very little knowledge of how Alexis fared while playing for Barca. But from the little that I've seen of the Chilean thus far, I've been extremely impressed. Unlike so many of the mercenary international stars who arrive on the back of a mega-money transfer, believing that they've nothing left to prove, Alexis appears to be revelling in all the attention (presumably after having to endure a bit of a back seat ride at Barca, with Messi at the wheel) and brim full of determination to prove himself worthy of all the attention and his £30m price tag.

Alexis might've failed to produce a suitably brilliant performance on Saturday because so much of what he attempted just didn't come off, but I adore the fact that instead of merely laying the ball off and passing on responsibility, as is so often the case when watching the Gunners endless tikki-takka, whether he was trying to pick the lock with a pinpoint pass, or taking the opposition on, the Chilean attempted to impose himself on the game, pretty much every single time he came into possession. His hunger to have an impact upon the proceedings was also evident in the relatively unusual trait nowadays, wherein he demonstrated a reluctance to hit the deck at the slightest hint of any contact, preferring instead to stumble forward, in his desire to bring the move to fruition.
I rarely trust my increasingly decrepit memory, but I had the distinct impression that Saturday's game was just passing Jack Wilshere by and that we had to wait for him to be shocked from his slumber, by going a goal behind. I don't recall Jack running with the ball, attempting to take the opposition on, until immediately after Hangeland headed the Eagles first corner home and stunned us all into silence in the 35th minute.

With the paranoia that has resulted from Wilshere's woeful injury record, we are constantly moaning about our opponents overly-physical attentions, but with them invariably having been instructed to prevent our fluent passing from gathering any pace and with Jack being placed at the midfield fulcrum of the majority of our moves, it's somewhat inevitable that he attracts so many fouls.

Hypocrite that I am, I'll be the first out of my seat, cheering Jack on, when he goes down on the edge of the area, resulting in the award of a genuine opportunity to score from a set-piece (and better still, much like everyone else, I'm guilty of coming in my pants, if he goes down in the box and secures a spot-kick!). Yet this fast becomes habit-forming and we've grown far too accustomed to the sight of Jack sitting on the deck, legs and arms akimbo, innocently pleading in the direction of the ref, with his "bullied schoolboy" expression.

With Wilshere's low centre of gravity, he should prove a more awkward proposition in the challenge and truth be told, many is the time when I would much prefer for him to produce on the pitch, the same red and white heart that he professes to possess so publicly, by refusing to yield to the attentions of his opponent and instead demonstrates the determination and the hunger to stay on his feet and make his mark.

Moreover, while there might be everything to be gained from the award of free-kicks in the final third, there's nothing to be achieved by going down in the centre-circle, other than securing some advantage by an opponent's name ending up in the ref's notebook. As it turned out, we ended up winning the game immediately after Jason Puncheon was sent off on Saturday, but when ref Moss brandished the red card, after Puncheon slid, studs up, into Monreal, I instinctively moaned, thinking it might well be one of our immediate competitors who could end up being the only ones to profit from facing Palace in the player's absence due to suspension.

Slide tackles were my stock in trade, playing as a left-back as a child many moons back and although I do appreciate the efforts being made to try and minimize the risk of serious injury, I have serious reservations about the rule changes that have completely removed this element from a defender's armoury. Without years of ballet training, it's nigh on impossible to effect a slide tackle with toes sufficiently pointed to conceal ones studs and so with the officials now deprived of room for interpretation of this exciting facet of the beautiful game, playing football wouldn't be nearly so pleasurable for me. And I wouldn't dream of comparing my humble talents with the peerlessly accomplished defensive capabilities of the likes of Winterburn and Dixon, but with the recent rule changes prejudicing football's hard men and swinging too far in the favour of the swallow-diving, theatrical artists, I find myself feeling more than a little melancholy about whether we will see their like again in the modern game.

But as ever, I digress! With Marouanne Chamakh putting himself about, grafting harder in 90 mins for Palace than he did in his entire Arsenal career, perhaps Jack had good cause to go down, each time he was fouled on Saturday. Yet I found myself growing increasingly frustrated with Wilshere accumulating an increasingly frequent tally of free-kicks in the centre-circle, when on each occasion this prevented us from gaining any momentum and afforded Palace the time to track back and regroup, parking the bus with all eleven behind the ball, forming up in the organised and effective fashion, doubtless as dictated by their former mentor.

I was somewhat encouraged, in the brief ten-minute period, between being stirred from his apparent stupor by going a goal behind and the halftime break. Jack took possession on a couple of occasions and drove at the Palace defence, in the terrorising manner that has proved so fruitful in the past, by wreaking panic and mayhem amongst the opposition. However, after being relieved of the ball on the edge of the area, it was as if, having tried and failed, Jack all too rapidly came to the conclusion that he couldn't beat the opposition and went back into his shell.

We've all been waiting for the sufficiently long run in the team that will rebuild his belief and confidence, to the point where Jack is back to being able to ghost past the most competent of defenders and he returns to being capable of making a monkey out of all comers. Moreover, instead of both Ramsey and Wilshere struggling to have the same significant impact on those encounters when the two of them are playing together, I was hoping that all the richly deserved plaudits afforded to Aaron Ramsey in recent times, might inspire his pal to soar to similar heights.

Instead of which, I can't help but wonder if, like so many of our modern day young stars who've achieved such boundless wealth and attention at such an early age, Jack has become a bit too spoiled, deprived of the motivation to dig sufficiently deep, both in training and in competition, to produce the sort of energetic performances that rocketed him to global recognition in the first place.

While Wilshere is spending his afternoons haunting the tattoo parlour, along with so many of his peers who are seemingly intent on outdoing "the painted lady", I wonder if he continues to daydream of finally fulfilling every Gooners ambition to see him lift the big-eared trophy, or if he's more worried about whether the red ink has run?

When all our wealth of midfield talent is fit and available, it's debatable whether Jack deserves to command automatic selection. And if he should find himself forced to sit out matches on the bench, will his much vaunted Arsenal love motivate him to fight for a place in the starting XI, or will he throw his toys out of the pram and begin angling for a lucrative move to join Cashley supping cappuccinos in a fashionable bar on the Continent?

I was disappointed to see the Corporal exiled to East London after Debuchy's arrival because Carl Jenkinson more than made up for any of his defensive naivety, with his adoration for the Arsenal. It's so unlikely in this day and age, for a common or garden supporter to give us all hope, by stepping straight off the terraces, into the playing staff. But at least Carl has only gone out on loan and has not been sold.

With Wilshere and Jenkinson both being Gooners, amongst that all too rare breed of players who actually grew up to play for the club they supported in childhood, it would be devastating to see them both fall by the wayside in the future. Here's hoping that the Gunners can build on last season's success and as the new campaign begins to gather momentum, at the same time Jack will start to rediscover his mojo and will reacquaint himself with the love and enthusiasm for the beautiful game that first yanked his chain as a kid, to the complete exclusion of all the disadvantageous distractions that are the inevitable associated trappings of fame and fortune nowadays.

Sunday, 17 August 2014

I neglected to mention below that the MoM in many of the weekend's matches appeared to be the vanishing spray. I wondered what everyone was laughing about at our place and it wasn't until today that I discovered Santi suffered a faceful! Also, in all the euphoria over Aaron's goal, it seems to have been forgotten that his tap-in resulted from Debuchy coming oh so close to opening his own Arsenal account and all due credit to Kos for contorting his neck so impressively to head home our equaliser. Meanwhile it would appear that the Gunners are only too aware of the frivolous tastes of their target audience and I'm guessing that the cut-out Alexis featured in the matchday programme will be making an appearance on desk tops up and down the country. Further to my comment about no one team running away with the title, here's hoping that Chelsea's result tomorrow night doesn't leave me with my foot in my mouth

COYG

Peace & Love

Bernard

________________________________________

If the weekend’s opening salvoes served one purpose, it was to remind us that we’re slaves to such a fickle, footballing mistress. Although Man Utd might have appeared decidedly lightweight, in Louis Van Gaal’s baptism of fire defeat to the Swans in Saturday’s early encounter and this might well results in a rash of last-minute spending, on the sort of experienced star names that might lend his immature squad a little more Galactico gravitas, it could’ve been an entirely different story, if Wayne Rooney’s wonderful free-kick had curled a couple more inches, into the onion bag, instead of walloping the crossbar.

Moreover, instead of Man U being booed off, at Old Trafford accompanied by the Swans’ fans “sacked in the morning” teasing, much like the disgruntled Irons, with their tantrums over Tottenham’s last gasp winner at Upton Park, it might well have been us Gooners giving Arsène Wenger and our team the bird at the end of Saturday’s late game, if it wasn’t for Aaron Ramsey saving our three-point bacon, by putting a stalwart Palace to the sword right at the death.

I was left reflecting on what would’ve been a completely contrasting mood, if not for this late, late show in North London. As the clock ticked away and the climate of tension rose, during an increasingly frustrating and uncommonly sloppy second half, with far too many casual passes going astray, we were hardly peppering Speroni’s goal and you could feel that our inability to break the Eagles dogged defence down in the final third, was building towards a crescendo of discordant disapproval at the final whistle.

Instead of which, with Ramsey bagging himself the winner and securing our first opening day triumph in six long seasons, we enjoyed an explosion of relief as we stood there savouring the Gunners ‘win ugly” resolve to get the job done – whilst casting sympathetic glances over to the unwaveringly hearty band of Eagles fans in the corner of the stadium, who’d just endured having their opening day delight snatched from their grasp.

Nevertheless, although Saturday’s performance proved somewhat anti-climatic as Palace failed to be the expected easy prey, to the sort of free-flowing, entertaining football that we were all hoping for, it was probably no bad thing. We’ve managed to get off on the right foot for once, securing the all-important three points and thereby avoiding allowing the competition their habitual head start, while at the same time tempering the buoyant mood of optimism with a dose of reality. In fact, renewed Premiership hostilities around the country have reminded everyone that no one team is about to run away with the title.

Despite the disappointing evidence that Kieran Gibbs remains no less fragile than he’s been in previous seasons, there were plenty of positive signs. The fact that Debuchy appears to lack the same pace of Sagna could prove a problem, but he’s a far better crosser of the ball than his forebear. Callum Chambers appears to grow in confidence with every additional minute on the pitch and in contrast to Jack Wilshere, I adore Alexis’ willingness to stay on his feet and his work-rate.

In fact Sanchez appears to be so hungry and so motivated that I’m certain his influence will grow, as others attune to his sentient wavelength, especially when Özil returns to the fray and begins to take advantage of the Chilean’s unstinting eagerness to get on the ball. We are all too patently aware of the obvious, but pleasant midfield conundrum, when everyone is fit and available and it will be interesting to see how Arsène maximizes all this potential, in particular with Ramsey and Wilshere, who, much like the Lampard/Gerrard England enigma, rarely manage to impose themselves on matches when both are on the pitch.

Still, if the Gunners are to be genuine title contenders, the consensus of opinion appears to believe that we remain a couple of players short. In this respect we might benefit from Man Utd’s demise because it might well result in the sort of big money signings that could provide the necessary momentum to the transfer merry-go-round?

Monday, 11 August 2014

It would be easy to go overboard
on the optimism, after such an encouraging outcome against the
current Champions, in last Sunday’s Community Shield curtain-raiser. You
wait eight years for a sniff of silverware and as with the proverbial
London buses, suddenly two come along in quick succession.
Consequently, I must admit that much like the majority of Gooners, I’m far
more hopeful about the forthcoming campaign than I have been in many
a moon.

For me, perhaps the
most promising indicator of an Arsenal side who’s time has finally come,
was evident in some of the players' extremely positive post-match
remarks, referring to the spirit, unity and the sense of common
purpose in the Arsenal camp. Naturally, this is all too easy
when everything is hunky-dory and it’s really only in adversity that
the Gunners team spirit will be truly tested. Nevertheless, this has
left me feeling encouraged that we might, at long last, be about
to commence a season buoyed by the sort of resilient firewall of
belief that’s been all too easily extinguished in recent times.

The signing of Sanchez was crucial
to this regard, in promoting the expectation that we can kick-on
from last term’s achievements. I’ve no doubt that with his
apparent willingness to work his socks off and with an obvious
footballing brain that enables the Chilean to play with his head
up and ensure an end result from all our attractive football, Sanchez
is destined to terrorize opposing defences.

Albeit that amidst the
euphoria surrounding Alexis’ arrival, the irony of adding yet
another diminutive midfield maestro seems to have been lost. I
appreciate that Sanchez can be used as a striking option, but in his
more natural role, he provides le Prof with the pleasant problem
of perming the most effective five players across the midfield, from
the massed ranks of available talent. This makes a mockery of the
argument that we relinquished our option to bring back Fabregas
because we’re already blessed with sufficient alternates in his position.

I’m uncertain he’ll be quite so
motivated playing for Maureen-ho, as he might’ve been for Arsène. But
there are inevitable concerns that if Cesc starts pulling the midfield
strings, conducting Chelsea in the influential way in which we know
him to be capable of, whatever reasons Wenger had for turning his
back on his surrogate son might yet prove to be even more catastrophic
than presenting Man Utd with our principal goal-scorer and thereby
gifting them the Premiership crown.

If the Gunners are to go into
this campaign without having to fret about what the competition is
up to, there’s little doubt that we could benefit from a couple
more additions that might make our squad more complete.

I adore what I’ve seen of
Callum Chambers thus far. He has the sort of demonstrative
presence and the complete absence of timidity that reminds me a
callow Tony Adams. Nevertheless, while I’m all for giving youth its
head, I’d hate to see his burgeoning career ruined, by costly,
naïve errors in crucial games, due to our dependence on the
youngster. Moreover Monreal’s frailties at full-back are cause enough
for concern, never mind us being forced to use the Spaniard as
cover at centre-half.

Additionally, as our efforts
to secure Sporting’s Carvalho, or Khedira have suggested, as much
as I admire Arteta’s honest dedication to the cause and for all
Flamini’s earnest endeavours, the Gunners remain short of the sort of
physical midfield presence, capable of imposing himself for the
entire ninety minutes of those matches where we might end up under the
cosh.

Meanwhile, it’s marvelous to
witness the increasing maturity of Sczczny. Perhaps enlivened by the
competition from Ospina, our sweeper-keeper appears increasingly keen to
dominate his area. And while we’re whining about the late return to
action of our three world cup winners, this could prove a
psychological masterstroke, by adding even more impetus to our campaign at
just the right time.

Despite the fact that the
sullen-faced Mezut Özil appears as if he’s doing us all a favour, every
time he steps onto the pitch, I fancy he might benefit from playing
somewhat in the shadow, while others steal the limelight. With the
pace of Walcott, the Ox and Alexis, I’m certain Özil will enjoy his
turbo-charged new toys.

Behind the scenes, the arrival
of Shad Forsyth, the Gunners’ new fitness guru, could
prove equally significant as any star signing. Hopefully he can
achieve the minor miracle of ensuring that Diaby attains the fitness
necessary to finally demonstrate his imposing midfield influence.
But if Forsyth can enable the likes of Ramsey and Walcott to stay the
course this time around, whether there are to be gongs or not at the
conclusion, one thing is guaranteed, it’s gonna be one helluva an
entertaining ride.

Sunday, 10 August 2014

...the Gooner's Diary rides again (albeit perhaps a little less energetically than in seasons past!). Pre-season preview for the Observer, in advance of normal service being resumed with my weekly missive for the Irish Examiner: